


Whispers of Fondness

by Bubblesyoh



Series: Come here, love [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Disabled Character, Child Death, Couch Cuddles, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Off-screen Character Death, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 10:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblesyoh/pseuds/Bubblesyoh
Summary: Alex wonders how even after so much misery, Michael could still be so beautiful, so resilient, so fantastic.Michael wonders the same about Alex.
Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Come here, love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797601
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Whispers of Fondness

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! The warnings are there. Hope you enjoy

  
_Michael Guerin_ , it's his name and he moved in six months ago. He is an enigma, a puzzle piece that does not seem to fit in Roswell. He has an air of sorrow and sadness deeply hatched to him, the kind of unhappiness that Alex knows so well. Michael Guerin is beautiful, even with the weight of the world in his shoulders and sometimes, Alex wants to reach out and offer more then a couple of friendly words or an awkward smile.

So, today, Alex watches. He stares at him with rapt attention, marvels at how Michael suppresses his words and actions, all the while, feasting his eyes on Michael Guerin and the mystery he is. Trying to decipher the _why_ , the _who_ , the _where_. It all makes so little sense, that by the end of the night Alex is completely and utterly exhausted, tired to the bone.

Alex is ready to go home when it happens, he sees it coming the moment Michael pushes out of his seat as quick as lightning and Maria lets out an exasperated groaning noise. It wasn't clear who throw the first punch, but it sure was obvious who threw the last one, and that was definitely Alex. 

"Get the fuck out," Alex hisses with such venom in his voice that the fight comes to a halt with the offender spitting blood onto the bar floor, it seems Michael had landed a decent couple of punches.

"You heard him," Maria calls, setting down the whiskey she'd been about to pour, calmly wiping her hands on a rag. And just like that, the fight was over almost as soon as it began, Maria yelling out a show's over to dissipate the tension.

"Thanks, DeLuca, Manes," Michael says with a charming smile. "You know I'll stay out of trouble from now on."

Even with a split lip and the beginning of a black eye, Michael Guerin managed to be a stunningly handsome cowboy. He didn't deceive Alex though, he could see it without even looking for it. The despair and anguish that Michael carried around, how he used it to defend himself, to create a layer of protection between him and the world.

"Uh huh," Maria answers with amiable skepticism, not bothering to look at Michael.

.

Michael jolts awake abruptly with a groan of pain, his head was throbbing in pulse with his heartbeat. He rubbed his face to chase away the heaviness in his eyes and groaned once more, falling asleep slumped against the wheel is a habit that he's been trying to break. 

The door to the airstream sticks stubbornly when Michael pushes it open, a creaky complaint coming from the hinges. For a moment, he hesitates in the doorway, afraid, barely containing a shiver when not even the sunlight managed to make the place cozy. Such a cold, sad place, when did he became such a shell of what he used to be?

He closes the door behind him and quickly makes his way to the small kitchen area to grab a glass of water, not ready to look at the mess that he knows it awaits him. The water doesn't last as long as he wished and he has to stop himself to refill the glass because he needs to clean the mess strewn all over the floor. 

Tiny pants and skirts were scattered on the floor, a couple of dolls and barbies all over the couch. A box of crayons was on the coffee table, a half-finished draw underneath them. He clenched his palms and felt his throat constricted, eyes burning something fierce, but above all, he felt frustrated that eight months later, felt like eight hours instead. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. 

Michael felt defeated, with no idea for where to turn or what to do. It certainly wasn't healthy to live in this metal box, but he couldn't live in the house they both chose together, in truth Michael was so worn out. The worst of all was how his siblings looked at him, that helplessness in their eyes, the pity in their expressions when talking to him. Maybe continuing with the move here was the wrong decision, but at least here he had a family. 

_Family. What a bunch of bullshit_. He brushed his shirt over his eyes to clear his face of tears and got up to clean everything.

.

Outside the rain is angry, dropping fat and fast, the occasional flash lighting up the dark room, followed by a crash of thunder so loud that wakes him in a panic. Pain sears through his leg as the scream he did not let out morphs into a gasp. His vision is blurry and fuzzy but he ignores all that and moves to stand up. He's fine. Until he isn't, until his balance is put way off, he sways as if drunk and falls hard to the floor with a grunt of pain. 

And Alex stays there because he is burning like a supernova, the pain eating away of what was left of his sanity, clawing out of his chest as easily as the water falls from the tap. He curls in a ball, as much as he can, and wastes away in the floor, trembling and gasping for breath, mind struggling to find common ground, because his leg was not there, but it was tormenting him as if it was. 

He remembers the first few weeks, how miserable he had been. How life was nothing more than crying with pain, fever and chills, nausea and vomit. The overwhelming grief and humiliation when he wasn't able to take care of himself. The understanding that his privacy would be non-existent, it was more than a question of pride. For Alex, it felt like being stripped of humanity, of his sense of control and after Jesse Manes upbringing, that was the hardest thing he had to overcome. 

The episode disappears as fast as it had come, the scar where his leg used to be tender, the pain now a soft, barely-there reminder of what happened just a few minutes ago. There was no need to try and sleep, even if the nest of pillows and blankets he had on the floor was pretty comfortable, not to constantly drift in and out of vivid dreams. So when his eyes snap open for what felt the hundredth time he decided he wanted to eat. Hence the three am shopping spree, complete with the incessant rain and crazy wind. 

Which may have not been the smartest choice, but it paid off when he sees Michael. Alex debated to continue with his shopping after a nod of acknowledgment, maybe even a hello. But right now he's sleepy, eyes tired and heavy, and again, maybe driving was not the smartest choice, yet human contact was what Alex was in desperate need off after such a chaotic night.

"Ultimate Baking for Kids," Alex reads and Michael is so surprised that he drops the box, tiny plastic utensils falling to the ground in a cacophony of too much sound at this hour. 

"Fuck," Michael says, quickly going to his knees to shove everything inside the box before an employer appears. He grabs Alex's hand in a rush, shifting his grocery basket to his other arm and pushes him along, away from the toys.

Michae lets go of his hand a few minutes later, but both of them continue to shop together, coffee, jam, pasta, juice, biscuits, soap, toilet paper. The silence instead of heavy is peaceful, almost soothing, just like what Alex needs. 

Alex doesn't question when Michael goes to grab something with a smile and a second later his grin disappears, nodding to himself with a frown, putting the item back on the shelf, although it happens a couple of times. Michael doesn't question when Alex starts to slow his pace down, or when he starts to limp. Instead, Michael carries Alex groceries to the checkout, helps him bag them, and carries them to Alex's car. And Alex lets him.

.

_"She was strong, such a fighter, like yo—" Isobel's hands or on his face, keeping him still, trapping him in a nightmare. "—too much blood, Michael."_

He couldn't help but slam the door behind him when he entered the house. His muscles were tense, his jaw locked tight and the stress of the day had settled somewhere in between his shoulder blades, leaving his whole body feeling like it was on the verge of crumbling. 

Michael remembers the countless vows he'd made to protect her, but what he remembered the most was how he failed. 

He goes straight away to the couch, dropping his head in Isobel's lap. Her hands come right away to his hair, calming his racing heart with every comb through his curls. He tries to burrow his head further in her lap, looking so desperately for the comfort she is more than willing to give him. 

A _hi_ is whispered gently to him, and any other day Michael would jump at the opportunity to pester Max, but right now he is so miserable that even the thought of moving makes him dizzy. He bites his lip, trying to stop the tears that will come, but right now he wants nothing more than giving up. Michael wants to cease to exist, to stop being human, and to feel nothing.

_He remembers picking up her limp body still warm but drenched in blood and placing her head on his chest._

Max seats on the floor, his shoulder resting against Iz's knee, and for no reason at all, it makes Michael mad. He is hit with such a wave of fury and rage that makes him nauseous. Makes him tremble and gasp for breath. It makes him want to stop the clock and go back in time when he still had everything when he was happy and carefree when _she_ was still alive.

His siblings let him cry. They always do. Most of the time Michael is such a shitty brother, he doesn't deserve them. He doesn't deserve anything good, because Michael let his everything die. His sweet baby girl, his little bunny with her tiny little fingers, big smile, and gentle laugh. So, Michael wept, mostly for him, because he only had gotten to love his baby for six short years. He was not going to see his daughter grow up and the ache in his chest was still suffocating at the best of times. 

"Do you want me to cancel dinner with everyone or are you up to it?" Max questions when Michael starts to sit down, still heavily leaning against Isobel. The look Max and Isobel share speaks for itself but it's enough for Michael to open his mouth. 

"Don't look at me like that," he mumbles, voice hoarse and stuffy. Isobel looks at her lap guiltily, but Max nods, leaving a quick kiss on his head, followed by a sharp squeeze in the back of his neck.

Later on, when everyone has already arrived and Michael volunteers to go grab some drinks, he stops by the photos that Max as on display. He grabs the frame and presses a fingertip to the cold glass. A chubby five-year-old grinned back at him with cheeks smudged with chocolate cake. He found the corners of his mouth flickering upwards as his eyes grew misty and his chest tight. 

"Who is she?" Alex asks, next to him with a sweet smile of his own. Michael reaches a hand for him to take, and Alex does not disappoint, he intertwines their fingers together. 

"Nora."

.

Liz runs her thumb along Alex's left shoulder and when she reaches the place where it meets his neck, he hisses. He's been sore for the last two days and while it seems something silly to complain about, it's still annoying. Even if at the moment Alex's thinking Kyle may have been a better option then Liz, at least Michael is here.

" _Liz_ ," Michael says with exasperation, half nodding his head in incredulity.

" _Mickey_!" She exclaims back.

"Be gentle," Michael remarks, pushing her away and taking Liz's place.

_Gentle_. Such a foreign concept when it comes to him. Alex can't remember the last time someone was gentle with him. Perhaps when he was seven, sitting on his mother's lap as she read to him, not long before she left. Maybe that time when Michael carried his groceries for him. Or the other day when Michael brought lunch for them to share. Perhaps when Michael smiles at him, big and happy, such a rare occurrence, but a gentle one none the less.

Slowly Michael runs his thumb along the curve of his shoulder to his neck. Michael presses as tenderly as he can, making slow circles and Alex lets out a pleased little sigh and relaxes slightly. Michael starts to hum calmly, hand coming behind Alex's ears, pressuring just the right amount. Alex doesn't know how long they sit there, Michael's hands softly easing the knot out of his shoulder. He's so out of it, that right now only he and Michael exist.

"My father is a piece of shit," Alex remarks out of nowhere, disdain apparent on his tone, and Michael's hands slow for a fraction. "When I was a kid I used to dream with his approval. Now I can see it, he can't even love himself."

Alex was expecting to feel that cold grip in his hear that always appeared when talking about his dad, the dull roaring of crashing waves on his hears, but instead, he could only sense Michael and as the minutes go by Alex relaxes more and more, eagerly soaking up Michael's touches to his neck, the way he moves so lightly, almost afraid of hurting Alex. 

"It's always when you think something doesn't affect you anymore than you are always proven wrong. For the last few years, I got caught in this sense of security in the military you know?" Alex states, but it comes out like a question. "I believed that I was past all his bullshit, I mean, for the most part, I am."

"But there's always that little piece of you that still sees him as your dad," Michael continued for him. "And Alex, that is what makes you such a remarkable human being. Having the power to always see the good in others and being able to forgive."

Alex feels so safe and cared for that he allows himself to close his eyes, trusting Michael completely. Yeah, sometimes Alex forgets how to touch without being hurt, but right now, with Michaels hands on him, he realizes, somewhat absently, how wonderful it is. 

.

The snowstorm is the worst the city's seen in years and Michael is freezing. The weather forecast had predicted only small flurries, so the sheer scale of the blizzard has caught everyone off-guard. When Michael arrives at Alex's cabin with dinner is already too late to go back. The speed at which the snow is accumulating will most likely close some roads and businesses, which means Michael is now trapped with Alex until it passes.

The moment Michael leaves the truck he gets soaked immediately, he rushes through the wind and snow shivering, hugging the food to his chest to keep it from getting wet. He didn't know he was that cold, he can't feel his face anymore. Small mercies though, since Alex must have heard his truck and his currently opening the cabin door to let him in.

"Take your clothes off," Alex orders and Michael chuckles, dumping the food on the coffee table. "This isn't the time, Guerin," Alex says with a hint of warning in his voice, Michael grimaces slightly, he must be pretty pissed off to use his last name.

He struggles to remove his jacket, fingers clumsy. "My hands are numb," Michael groans, when he manages to get his wet and heavy jacket off of his shoulders. Alex pushes him closer to the fire and helps him out of his drenched clothes. If Michael wasn't so cold, he was sure there would have been a faint blush on his face, but as he is, he just wants to feel warm again. 

"Your lips are blue," Alex says when Michael lurches forward resting his head on his shoulder, denying such a blasphemy. The heat from the fire began to work its magic and after a few minutes, feeling returns to his fingers.

"How's the leg?" Michael questions, a hint of concern in his tone, head still resting against Alex. Because this kind of cold is the one that seeps through no matter how many layers you're wearing, the one that chills you to the marrow of your bones, the kind of cold that makes old injuries ache anew. 

"Could be worse," Alex acknowledges, pushing a warm jumper over his head and pressing him to the couch. So here is Michael, sat on the sofa, wearing layers upon layers of soft jumpers, wrapped around in two blankets, and still shivering faintly.

There's a quiet moment shared between them as they simply get comfortable in the couch, Michael suddenly thinks he really fucking loves this person in front of him. The kind of love that is impossible to describe, the one you could easily say; _I would die for you_. Such a strong and deep bound. Michael thought he had loved once upon a time, but those moments are nothing compared with how Alex and Michael click together. 

"Come here," Alex offers, arms open and Michael doesn't hesitate, he dives right in, strong arms wrapping around his middle immediately. They stay like that, legs entangled, warm and close, a mess of limbs on the couch. Michael's never been more glad to meet Alex, to the point that he wants to share every tiny bit of himself with him.

Alex presses his nose into his hair, breathing deeply. "Your hair smells good. It's so soft," he marvels.

Michael laughs quietly, sounds more like a release of breath than an actual laugh and Alex's arms around his middle tighten. In theory, the couch should not be big enough for both of them. But they're attached together, neither knows where one begins and the other ends, it's the safest Michael as ever felt. Maybe it's time. He squirms in Alex's hold until the other let him go with a whine of displeasure and grabs his cell from his pants. 

He stumbles back against the couch, this time seating with his back against the soft pillows, shoulder to shoulder with Alex. Michael traces the picture on his screen. "No matter how many photos I have of her, none of them can make her justice at all."

Alex's hand comes to join his on the phone, to reassure him and give Michael strength, or maybe to stop the trembling. 

"Her name was Nora, after my mom. She was six, and Alex, she was the greatest love of my life. And it kills me that I need pictures and videos to remember her because sometimes I can't recall the exact shape of her eyes, her silly laugh, or even the color of her hair," Michael clutches the phone to his chest, heaving an arduous breath, Alex warm hand on his neck, bringing his head to rest on his warm chest. "Alex, she would have loved you so much. I should have been more careful."

Alex doesn't offer any platitudes, instead, he never lets go of Michael, no, Alex clutches him with such force and emotion and Michael holds on right back. They cry together, for what it could have been, for what they could have had.

"I wish I could have had the opportunity to meet her, Michael, because I love her already," Alex whispers to him, and Michael sniffs in response.

.

Alex can feel it in his bones the moment he wakes up. There's no reason for it, just the heavy feeling of something seating in his chest, dragging him to the ground. There is just something in him that tells him it's going to be one of those days where it's hard to breathe, to talk, to _exist_. His cold nose presses against Michael's collarbone and he snuggles closer, trying to chase away the loneliness that seems to want to cling to him.

Michael lets out a quiet whisper of fondness when he tangles their legs together and mumbles a soft, "Come here, love."

Then he's being rolled and something in Alex settles. Michael is on top of him, pulling him against his chest and wrapping an arm around him, solid and warm, it calms Alex, it doesn't fix it, but it helps. At some point, the tension in him is more of background noise and is being replaced with something soft and cozy. Unable to resist he presses a kiss to Michael's temple, his fingers getting lost on Michael's hair, gently tugging on the curls, nails scratching on his scalp.

Alex wonders how even after so much misery, Michael could still be so beautiful, so resilient, so fantastic. Alex decided then that perhaps he'd never know, maybe all he could do was wonder how he became lucky enough to be chosen by Michael, Alex was sure, together they would protect and love each other to the best of their ability.

It's late morning when Alex finally understands it fully. He is so at ease and content to stay here forever, in Michael's arms. He pulls Michael closer to him, drawing him nearby his curls, their breath mingling together. There's a genuine smile on Alex's lips, eyes gleaming with fondness, when he says, "I love you."

Alex can't stop himself from surging upward to connect his and Michael's lips for a soft but short kiss, cheeks hurting from trying to contain the beaming smile he wants to release. Alex's heart is pounding when Michael's arms tighten around him, protective and possessive all at once, but from the watery chuckle that greeted the action, Michael was happy, and the whispered words that followed only confirmed it. "I love you too…"

Michael presses their foreheads together for a few moments before their lips met in a brief and soft embrace, the barest hint of lips on lips, sweet and curious, but ready to discover a new reality.


End file.
